


Song of Scheherazade

by Project0506



Series: Song of Scheherazade [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arabian Nights Fusion, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Dubious consent due to power imbalance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 16:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11924883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: In his heart he wishes that the Sultan were cruel.  It would be easier then to hate him when the sun rose.Please see end notes for warnings.(Now with bonus sequel, because for some reason I actually like this weird 'verse)





	Song of Scheherazade

**Author's Note:**

> I don't... I don't know? I love Viktor. It doesn't seem like it, but I really do. I'm sorry in advance. 
> 
> See end for warnings and spoilers

He lacks the experience for comparison, and yet Yuuri can tell that the Sultan is a most considerate lover. It is written in the way he wrings pleasure from Yuuri's body first, again and then again, before even beginning to see to his own. It is sung in the slow hours he spends spreading Yuuri oh so gently wide across his fingers, so the first, inevitable press of him inside is merely discomfort instead of the blinding pain Yuuri had been terrified into believing.

 

It's the way long, pale arms hold him as if he were valuable, the way eyes like sharp chips of lapis lazuli devour him as if he were something to be coveted. It is the pretty words whispered as though to a lover, as if their marriage this morning meant anything at all.

 

_Rise up, my love,_

_my beautiful one, and come._

 

He is fortunate, in a way, that his first (his _only_ ) would be this gentle.

 

“Speak to me your wishes, my perfect one,” the Sultan entreats, so achingly softly as if the words are whispered within Yuuri's own mind as they move as one. “My beautiful one, my pleasant love, my delight, speak to me your desires. I would see you draped in every pretty thing, bathed in moonlight.”

 

Yuuri only weeps; he knows moonlight is all he has.

 

In his heart he wishes that the Sultan were cruel. He wishes that the lips that kiss away tears from the corners of his eyes were teeth that tore lines of blood down his cheek. He wishes that the hands that pulled him up to cradle his back against a warm, smooth chest were nails that bit and bruised. He wished the Sultan would call him repulsive. Whore. A convenience. Fat.

 

_Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands_

_of a skillful workman._

 

It would be easier then to hate him when the sun rose.

 

The sheets are new and silk and purple, and worth more per cut than Yuuri's entire family is worth in labor. The pillows are fresh and plump and Yuuri can find no spine in the feathers that stuff them. The curtains are barely corporeal wisps of lace swept up to the pillars of the Sultan's sleeping platform in heavy knots of delicately spun gold fibers. A mirror ringed in gold, with more glass than Yuuri had ever believed existed in the world, haunts the edges of the dais and gives glimpses of a world no more complicated than two men each enjoying the body of the other. The riches of the chamber is humbling, but it is the Sultan's disregard for them that is terrifying. The mirror is spotted with Yuuri's spend; the pillows raise his hips like well-presented trappings of a feast. The curtains are carelessly ripped from their hooks to clean the such between his thighs. Beautiful and expensive, hand-made and delicate, the Sultan uses them all to his whims and discards them without a thought. He is Sultan; there will always be more.

 

_Behold, you are beautiful, my love._

_Behold, you are beautiful._

 

“Won't you let me satisfy your desires,” the Sultan implores as he devours every quivering inch of his bride. “My sweet little dove, my quiet bloom. You've already given me your veil. Why would you now hide yourself from me.” It isn't truly resolve that turns Yuuri's face away. Others before had been beautiful, and graceful and wise and clever. Others before had tongues that didn't trip humiliatingly over foreign vowels in marriage vows, but even their words hadn't bought them another sunrise. What use could there then be for his words, which even after a decade still mark him as foreign? He remains silent, except when he can't.

 

When there is no more way in which he is pure, delicate slivers of softest meats are pressed to his lips with bright bursts of sweet fruits and cool swallows of lightest wine. Splashes of spice spread from the Sultan's fingers to the first moist stretch of Yuuri's lip, and the Sultan's tongue chases them there as though it is his first taste of want.

 

“Let me have your everything,” again the Sultan begs against his mouth, a third time in a land where threes are power. “Give to me that secret your heart has never told another.”

 

It is some _Djinn_ , maybe, that possesses him. Perhaps it is some _Peri_ that takes pity on him, that wrests control of his hands and voice while he himself lacks the courage. It could not be Yuuri's own enterprise, not when his terror has flooded the sheets of his marriage bed with his tears. It is some other being then that pulls Yuuri from the cage of the Sultan's embrace, that folds his body sacrilegiously low at the length of the Sultan's feet, that wraps his hands firm around the strong bend of the Sultan's ankle, that presses worshipful lips to the curve of the Sultan's heel.

 

“I wish.” He says. I wish. I wish. I wish. Common brown eyes meet the brightest blue. “I wish my lord the Sultan would allow me to tell him a story.”

 

_Let me hear your voice;_

_for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yuuri is married to Viktor but knows that Viktor has his spouses executed at sunrise. They have sex and Yuuri does not dissent, however he is quite reasonably scared. There is a power imbalance between the two which may lead to the conclusion that Yuuri was not given a choice to consent.
> 
> Lyrics in italics are from Song of Solomon.


End file.
